The rhythmic padding of paws against dirt accompanied the steady creak of wooden wheels. The sun had fully risen, casting golden streaks across the vast plains. The air was crisp, yet the warmth of the morning made the journey pleasant.
Luke leaned back against the cushioned seat, idly flipping the map between his fingers. Ilyrana had fallen quiet beside him, still lost in thought after their earlier conversation. The momentary silence was nice—just the sounds of travel and the occasional chatter of distant riders.
Then, breaking through the peace, Ethan's voice called out.
"Hey, Luke!"
Luke blinked, glancing up. Ethan, their driver, had turned his head slightly over his shoulder, his voice carrying back easily. "Lady Larissa wants a word with you."
Before Luke could respond, another voice cut in—sharp, questioning.